Someone had written things in the margins of some of the pages. Was that what they were looking for? They checked pages two, eighteen, thirty-five, ninety-one, forty-four, but some of those pages had nothing handwritten on them and others had notes that didn’t make much sense. “C-f-r Budge? What on earth is that?” Xander wondered out loud at one of them.
“I don’t know,” Xena said, “but if it means nothing to us, it probably wouldn’t mean anything to Amin’s descendants either. It’s got to be something that makes sense. Let’s start at the beginning of the translation, not in all this introduction stuff.”
Xander turned pages until he came to the actual translation. He read, “The timekeeper,” and stopped. He turned sparkling eyes on Xena. “Timekeeper!”
“Go on,” she said.
The timekeeper tells of the prince who has followed his father as king, ruler with sparkling crowns, greatest, who rules the land of Egypt and worships its gods, stronger than his enemies, who brings safety to its people, lord of the Festival of Thirty Years, like the great god Ptah, like the sun-god Ra, who rules both Upper and Lower Egypt, son of the Philopatores gods beloved by Ptah, granted supremacy by Ra, like unto Amun the son of Ra, King Ptolemy the eternal, also beloved by Ptah, in year Nine of his reign. . . .
Xander counted silently and found the second, eighteenth, and all the other letters: h-s-s-w-h. No help there.
But in the meantime, Xena was counting the words and scribbling down what she came up with: timekeeper, greatest, safety, year, and thirty.
“Look, Xander.” She pointed at it.
“That doesn’t make much sense.”
“It makes more sense than ‘hsswh’! And remember, it talks about a timekeeper. That can’t be a coincidence!”
“You’re right,” he conceded. They thought for a moment.
“Who’s the greatest timekeeper?” Xena asked. “Thoth, god of time?”
Xander shook his head. “If this is a key to where the amulet’s been hidden, then it’s not a who. It’s a what. A safe place—”
“Wait a second. Let’s think like Sherlock. Examine the evidence, not what we think we’re looking for. The amulet’s first hiding place, the water clock, was a timekeeper, so the greatest timekeeper could be a bigger clock. ‘Greatest’ can mean ‘biggest’ too, not just ‘best.’”
“I know!” Xander jumped up. “Big Ben!” The clock in the tall tower at Westminster Palace was once the biggest clock in the world and was still one of the most famous.
“Big Ben’s the bell, not the clock,” Xena reminded him.
“Duh! But you know what I mean. The clock in the tower where the bell is.”
“All right. But what about ‘year’ and ‘thirty’? Maybe Karim’s grandfather was wrong and the amulet works once every thirty years instead of every fifty!”
“Why would Amin say that in code? Anyone who was looking for the amulet would already know how it worked and wouldn’t care if it was every thirty years or every fifty. I think this is telling someone where to find it, not what it is.”
“Wait!” Xena counted again. “What if ‘sun-god’ is one word instead of two? Then we get ‘nine’ instead of ‘year.’ Big Ben at nine-thirty?”
Their eyes met over the pages of the book. At last they were getting somewhere!
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
They still didn’t know exactly what they were looking for. They were pretty sure that they had to go to Big Ben and do something at 9:30, but what? And 9:30 in the morning or night?
I hope it’s 9:30 in the morning, Xander thought. There’s no way Mom and Dad would let us go there so late. Just as he thought that, Xena’s cell phone rang. Oh, please let it not be Mom and Dad! Xander thought as hard as he could, but it was no use.
“Hi, Mom.” Xena rolled her eyes at him as she spoke. “Yes, I know. But it’s not that late! And we have a case that—but, Mom—but—” She frowned and kicked the ground while their mother’s voice came through the phone. “Okay. Be right back.”
“Let me guess,” Xander said. “Dinner, homework, it’s getting dark—right?”
Xena nodded. “You left out ‘You two should know better!’”
“Maybe Sherlock Holmes didn’t have a computer and GPS,” Xander said as they headed for the flat. “But at least he didn’t have a curfew!”
Xena managed to get most of her homework out of the way before dinner and went online to investigate a trip to Big Ben. She found the nearest Tube stop and then tried to find out what hours the big clock-tower was open. Her “Oh, no!” made Xander look up.
“What?” he asked, and his heart sank as he saw her face.
“We can’t get in.” She pointed at the screen. “You can only go up inside the tower if your MP gets permission for you.”
“What’s an MP?”
“Member of Parliament, like your member of Congress. Only we’re not British, so we don’t even have an MP.”
Xander read the text on the Web site. “What makes it worse,” he said, “is that people used to be able to get inside. That means that Amin could have gone in there and left something. It has to be something inside. If it was outside, people would have noticed it by now.”
They sat in discouraged silence for a moment, and then something occurred to Xena. She turned to the keyboard and typed rapidly for a moment.
“What?” Xander asked.
Xena shook her head. “I’ll tell you if I get an answer.” She turned back to finish her homework, and checked her e-mail every few minutes. After her fourth attempt, she said, “Aha!” and turned the screen so that Xander could read the message.
It was from Mr. Grayson, the curator at the Timekeepers Museum. “You two really are clock buffs, aren’t you? As it happens, I have some research to do at Big Ben and can easily get you in. I’ll move my appointment up to tomorrow and see you there after school.”
“Yes!” Xander pumped his fist in the air. But Xena looked disappointed. “What?” he asked.
“After school is nowhere near nine-thirty,” she pointed out.
Xander’s face fell but then he perked up. “We can at least get a look around,” he said. “We might find a way to go back there at nine-thirty. It’s better than nothing.”
The instant school was out on Friday afternoon, Xena and Xander met up in the corridor. People were slamming lockers all around them, but Xena still lowered her voice. “Do you have your Tube map?”
Xander nodded and pulled it out with difficulty, as a soccer ball took up most of the room in his backpack. “Here’s the nearest stop to Big Ben.” He put his finger next to a drawing of a tall steeple with a clock on it.
They squeezed through the crowd and raced to the Tube stop. The ride seemed to take forever, but finally they got to the stop right by the Palace of Westminster.
The huge, rectangular tower loomed over them as they hurried toward the palace. It was beautiful—four clocks with white faces under a pointy spire, at one end of the majestic palace. Pale clouds floated behind it, making it look as if the tower were gliding slowly across the sky.
“Wasn’t Big Ben bombed during World War Two?” Xena asked Xander as they neared the stone building.
“Uh-huh. Two of the clockfaces were damaged.” Neither one said what they both were thinking: What if whatever we’re looking for was destroyed?
They saw Mr. Grayson waving to them from the base of the tower. They broke into a trot and arrived next to him.
“I’ll sign in and then we can go up,” he said. “All right?”
“Great!” Xena and Xander chorused, and watched as he went to talk to a man in a uniform.
Xander saw two familiar figures approaching. He nudged Xena and pointed out Jake and Shane, who were walking together and talking to each other. “What are they doing here?” he asked.
“Coincidence?” Xena hazarded, but she knew that wasn’t likely. London was a huge city, and it wasn’t like these native Londoners were there to see the sights.
&nbs
p; She felt uneasy and moved closer to Xander, who muttered, “Something’s up.” She nodded in agreement.
“What are you doing here?” Xander asked as soon as they were within earshot. The boys looked up, surprise on both their faces. Was it his imagination, or was Shane’s surprise fake?
“What are we doing here? What are you doing here?” Shane asked.
Xena said, “We’re going up the bell tower!”
Xander groaned. Why did she have to tell them?
“Good for you!” Jake said. “How did you manage that?”
Xena explained without mentioning the amulet. But all the time she was talking, something was nagging at her—an odd sound. She couldn’t figure out what it was, only that it had come from one of the boys. “Why don’t you ask if you can come up with us?” she suggested.
Jake and Shane looked at each other and shrugged, and then Jake said, “Why not? Might be fun.”
As the boys walked off together down the paved path, Xander turned to her, furious. “Are you nuts?” he demanded. “Why did you invite—”
“Hush!”
“What?” Xander was surprised. His sister sounded excited.
“Listen!” she hissed.
He listened. Nothing but some birds, some of the ever-present tourists, a baby crying.
“Can’t you hear it? That clicking sound!” Xena whispered. “There’s something on the sole of Shane’s shoe!”
Xander thought for a moment. How could he find out what he needed to know? Then a grin broke across his face and he pulled the soccer ball out of his backpack. He stood on the wide sidewalk, kicking it in the air, trying to keep it from touching the ground.
When the older boys came back with the news that they’d gotten permission to go up the tower with them, Xander was still kicking it around. At first the two older boys didn’t pay any attention to him—they stood talking with Xena—but as Xander purposely kept flubbing an easy move, Jake finally took pity on him. He said, “Let’s go over there and I’ll show you how to do it.” He pointed to a small park across the street where a statue of the famous British prime minister Winston Churchill seemed to glower at passersby. Xander picked up the soccer ball and followed him, trailed by a bored-looking Shane and a curious Xena.
“Here, kick it to me,” Jake said, and Xander complied. They passed the ball back and forth a few times, and then Xander copied what the older boy had shown him. Shane joined them, and they kicked the ball to one another.
“Bet you can’t steal it from me!” Xander said when the ball came in his direction. He took off, dribbling it past Shane, who couldn’t resist the taunt. Xander shot a meaningful look at Xena, who moved closer just as Xander pretended to lose his footing. He stuck a foot in between Shane’s ankles and tripped him up.
As Shane went sprawling, Xena ran up. “Here, let me help you.” She gave Shane a hand. “Xander, you’re such a klutz!” She beamed triumphantly at Xander. So she’d seen something!
“I couldn’t help it,” Xander whined. “It’s slippery. Did I hurt you, Shane?”
“You hurt me? Hardly.” Shane brushed mud off his knees. “I’m used to spills.”
Xander was dying to ask Xena what she’d seen, but at that moment he saw Mr. Grayson standing at the base of the clock tower, gesturing at them. They all grabbed their backpacks and ran to the tower.
“Now keep close to me,” Mr. Grayson warned as one of the guards unlocked a door. “I’ve told them that you’re serious students of timepieces and won’t behave like silly kids.”
He led them up the winding stairs, Xena at his heels. Xander wanted to catch up with her and find out what she’d seen, but Jake and Shane were in between them, and the stairway was too narrow for him to pass. He wondered how Xena was feeling in there. Was the narrow space making her uncomfortable? Or was it okay, seeing as there were small windows every once in a while that allowed a glimpse of the world outside?
The walls were stone, and although they looked slimy, they were dry. They were cold and rough, though, and the stairs were worn where countless feet had stepped on them. The banister was black metal and felt even colder than the walls.
They climbed and climbed, turning always to the right as they made their way up the seemingly endless spiral staircase. Mr. Grayson had to stop a few times and catch his breath, and each time, Xander tried to slip past the older boys. “Here, who are you shoving?” Jake asked.
“I just wanted to walk with Xena,” Xander protested.
“Grow up,” Shane said. “Big sis is walking with us.”
Xena wished she could drop back and join Xander, but even if she did, she couldn’t say anything to him without the others hearing. It was such a narrow place, and the cold stone walls echoed the smallest sound. People had scratched their names into the soot-darkened walls, which somehow made it even creepier. The windows that let in a little pale light were few and far between, and the higher they went, the tighter Xena’s chest felt.
Finally they arrived at a landing that was a bit wider than the others, where the stairs changed direction. They paused and Xena took a deep breath, fighting the panicky feeling.
Xander managed to squeeze past Shane and Jake. He passed Xena too, as though his one goal were to get to the head of the line, and as he did so, he leaned in so close that his curls tickled her face and she was able to whisper directly into his ear, “Tack in shoe!”
So that was what made the clicking sound, and more important, it explained the circle in the shoeprint. It took all of Xander’s willpower not to confront Shane then and there, but he knew that this still wasn’t proof of anything. The prints he’d seen had disappeared, and he had no evidence that they’d ever existed. And even if people believed him that Shane had been in the janitor’s closet and in the shower room at school, that didn’t mean he had taken anything or even that he had put the scorpion in Xander’s backpack. Probably a handwriting expert could prove Shane had left the threatening note and maybe someone could even trace the phone call Xena had received, but all that would take time.
And time was something they didn’t have. He didn’t even have the time to feel angry at the danger the other boy had put him in.
“Can you look at the clockworks from in here?” Xander asked Mr. Grayson.
“Yes, that’s how they repair them. They even have to go in and clean things once in a while.”
“Brilliant!” said Jake. “Just wait until I tell everyone that I got to go inside the works at Big Ben!”
“No, it’s much too dangerous,” the man said sternly. “I’m not even allowed in there without an official. I’m just here to look at the documents a caretaker wrote during the First World War. You four will have to stay quiet while I do that, and then we’ll all go down together.”
“Did the caretakers write that too?” Xander pointed at the graffiti that was all around them.
“Some,” Mr. Grayson said. “But until recently visitors could come in here whenever they wanted, and I’m afraid that people can’t resist leaving their mark. Some of the marks have historical interest. See, up there is the signature of the actress Laura Sears, and below it . . .”
He went on, showing them the names of people they’d never heard of, but Xena and Xander weren’t paying attention.
Incised into the stone was something familiar—the outline of a hand with an eye drawn in the palm.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Xena and Xander tried desperately not to stare at the familiar symbol. If Shane hadn’t noticed the carving, they didn’t want to draw his attention to it. Xander glanced at it out of the corner of his eye. It had obviously been there for a long time. Dust and soot had gathered in the lines, making the symbol nearly invisible except when the light came in at a slant, as it was now doing. The late afternoon light made the shadows deeper and the contrast with the wall around them sharper.
Mr. Grayson paused to catch his breath. Xena cast about for something to ask him that would make the boys pay attention to her and
not look around. What could you ask about a clock?
“Um, I guess the clocks are so old that they aren’t very accurate.”
Sure enough, the man perked right up. “Some of these old timepieces were astonishingly accurate. Much more so than many watches your parents and I used to wear! But it is big,” he conceded, “and sometimes something would get into the mechanism or a piece would wear out from heavy use. In the old days, they would put a penny on the minute hand to slow it down if it was going too fast, but of course now we have better ways of regulating it. Did you know that there is a prison cell in the tower?”
“For thieves?” Xena couldn’t resist glancing at Shane.
“No, actually for misbehaving MPs!” Mr. Grayson said with a chuckle. “The cell hasn’t been used in quite a while. The chimes are famous.”
Shane’s attention seemed to be all on their guide at this point, so Xander risked another glance at the hand, knowing that what he saw would be instantly imprinted on his brain. Above the hand, almost hidden by the soot deposited by early-twentieth-century London, was the carving of a crude clockface. It had no numerals, but its hands were clearly pointing to 9:30! So the clue about 9:30 had nothing to do with the time they should visit the tower. It meant that they should look for a clockface indicating that time.
And in the instant before he looked away again, Xander saw something that made his heart skip a beat. The hour hand wasn’t a simple line. It was an arrow.
The carving was far out of Xander’s reach, but he knew that his sister, with her rock-climbing skills, would have no trouble reaching the arrow. But how to tell Xena about it without alerting Shane?
Mr. Grayson turned to head up the stairs again. Xander was desperate. He brushed against Shane, pretended to stumble, and yelled, “Ow! Cut that out!”
Xena whipped around to face him. She could tell that Xander was faking. But why? His eyes were telegraphing something to her, but she didn’t understand.
“What’s the problem?” Mr. Grayson came down a few steps.
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